| When first I did appear upon this native soil
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| All up and down this country at labor I did toil
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| I slumbered in the moonlight and I rose with the sun
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| I rambled through the canyons where the cold rivers run
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| When first I did come down where the land meets the sea
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| The people said Who are you and what would your name be
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| I said I have no home and I am no man’s son
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| 'Twas inland I was born and from inland that I come
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| In the good land I was young and I was strong
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| No one dared to call me son
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| Happy just to see my day’s work done
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| See my day’s work done
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| So I swung an axe as a timberjack
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| And I worked the Quebec mines
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| And on the golden prairie I rode the big combines
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| I sailed the maritime waters of many a seaport town
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| Built the highways and the byways to the western salmon grounds
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| I’ve gazed upon the good times I’ve seen the bad times too
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| Felt many a cold and bitter wind and many a mornin' dew
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| I’ve watched the country growin' like a fair and mighty thing
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| And on the still of a summer night I’ve heard the mountains ring
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| In the good land I was young and I was strong
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| No one dared to call me son
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| Happy just to see my day’s work done
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| See my day’s work done
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| But now the seeds are planted and the gates are open wide
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| The old ways are forgotten there’s no place left to hide
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| And the legacy I’m leavin' you is not very hard to find
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| You’ll see it all around you at this crossroads of time
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| In the sweet soil it’s a-growin' At the crossroads of time |